Barriers
by A. Windsor
Summary: Another PC fic, 6 months before Tough, definitely a prequel. Context hard to understand without Tough, but still readable.
1. Part 1

Title: Barriers

Rating: PG-13

Characters: Serra, Inara, Mal. Brief appearances by Abe, the rest of the crew, and the Sihnon Serras.

Pairings: Canon pairings apply, but I've run back to heavy M/I

Summary: Another PC fic, 6 months before Tough, definitely a prequel. Context hard to understand without Tough, but still readable.

Disclaimer: Most of the characters (sans PCs and Ally) aren't mine, but the situation is.

For newbies: Brother, Shadow, Mei-Mei, Mischief, Pirate Children, Mistletoe, Hell-Raising, Barriers, Tough, Echo

Author's Note: I've gone back to the Reynolds family for this one, which had to be done as a prequel to Tough. It's mostly Serra and Inara, with Mal thrown in. It's not... fluffy. Nor very pretty.

Kacey Washburn, 26

Lolly Tam, 25

Abe Reynolds, 23.5

Serra Reynolds, 18.5

Alistair Caramia

* * *

Part 1

She's drowned out the droning prison bureaucrat, holding fast to her brother's arm, probably leaving bruises. She's too lost in the horror to care, though age old training keeps her revulsion off her face until…

Until, until, until.

Until they round the corner and see _her_, huddled next to a cot, knees drawn up to her chest. Eyes vacant. That hollow look Inara's only ever seen in Mal's eyes, briefly, before. A strangled sob leaves Inara's chest. Fahmy's voice gets angry, booming, like their father's when the office would call during dinner with a break in a case, when he would hold meetings in his home office with opposing counsel. His lawyer voice.

Serra's obviously been poorly treated: mal-nourished, sleep-deprived, and filthy, bruises sprinkled across her arms, bare despite the constant chill of the steel penitentiary.

"You hold this innocent _child_…" Fahmy bellows.

"She's of age, sir," the bored manager interrupts to correct, inciting further shouting from Fahmy.

"No trial in sight… thwarting all legal attempts to…"

Her brother's voice slides in and out of focus, Inara's eyes remaining trained on her daughter through the two-way mirror. There are other women in the cell, though they give Serra wide girth.

"There have been some problems… fellow inmates…"

A brawler, her little one.

Serra's eyes haven't left the ground in front of her: cold hard concrete, wretchedly filthy with the dirt and dust of twenty women, one toilet, no regular showers.

"Open the door," Inara finally says, commanding with every ounce left of her Madrassa education.

By the time Fahmy and the force of the Great City of Sihnon's District Attorney's office can echo the order, the assistant warden has entered the appropriate code (his DNA) and has had the accompanying guards stand inside the door.

"Counselor Serra," he bows to Fahmy, gesturing for them to enter.

Fahmy gently pulls his younger sister into the musty cell, ignoring the staring and catcalling from the rest of the population. Inara hesitates in the doorway when she sees that Serra hasn't even looked up to see the source of the noise.

"Oh, Mei-Mei," she whispers, fingers digging into Fahmy's forearm.

She releases him, falling to her knees beside her baby girl, pulling her close and feeling Serra's muscles stiffen against the intrusion.

"Serra, baby, it's me. It's Mama," she says, desperate to get through the mental barriers Serra's mind has erected.

Brown meets brown and the faintest hint of light sparks back into Serra's eyes. She relaxes in Inara's arms, hands grasping at her mama's waist as she buries her head in her chest. "Mama." It's a breath, a sigh.

She doesn't cry.

_Take me away from this. Tell me it was a dream._

Inara sobs, broken by her broken little girl, the vivacious, vibrant child who danced around the cargo bay and challenged her brother to fencing bouts. She buries her face in Serra's hair, escaping from a messy braid. It smells like the room: sweat and anger and emptiness. It probably hasn't been washed in a weeks, at least. But underneath, barely detectable, is the smell of her daughter, the smell she was born with, the one every mother memorizes.

"We should go," Fahmy finally says, voice as gentle as the hand on Inara's shoulder. "It's over." He repeats. "It's over. We can go home."

Except they can't.

* * *

He won't enter the shuttle. Her scent lingers there, and he refuses to subject himself to that. Instead, after everyone's asleep, he spends infinite hours just staring at the door of their home, the one they've shared for almost twenty five years, seated on the cold, unforgiving catwalk. The same catwalk where Serra used to run against his instructions, her mama often chasing and catching her.

Abe still waves once a week, but he's obviously taken his mother's side. Mal expected no less. Even Mal's taken Inara's side; he is so absolutely in the wrong. And now he's lost her.

He stomps around the ship, barking orders, swiping Jayne's booze to try to chase away the pain that never leaves. His chest constantly aches, but Simon, eyes somewhere between pity and contempt, says that nothing is wrong with him. Physically, he always adds. And though he doesn't say it out loud, inside he's probably saying, "Mentally, you're a humped up _hun dan_."

Again, Mal doesn't disagree. Lolly looks at him like he's a monster. Kacey, recently returned from a stint on Monty's ship to find his aunt gone, looks at Mal like he wants to kill him. The captain's sure that, without the influence the first mate wields over her son, there would be a mutiny on this ship.

Everything on this ship reminds him of Inara. The stairs in the cockpit where he proposed, the chair in the cockpit where they spent many sleepless nights curled together in the pilot's chair, watching the infinite stars. The kitchen, the catwalk, the passenger dorms she helped redecorate, the engine room. Every nook and cranny where they stole kisses away from the crew, and later away from their beautiful but attention-stealing children. The cargo hold where she once nearly bled to death after a firefight, nearly left him to raise a three- and eight-year-old on his own. The shuttle.

Everything on this ship reminds him of Serra. The door to her and Lolly's room, decorated with their names from when they were little, the white board nailed to the bulkhead where the children all left coded messages for each other. The couches outside the infirmary, where she used to curl up in his lap, ear pressed against his heart, and drift off to sleep. The catwalks she scraped her hands and knees on countless times, nearly tumbled from even more times. The kitchen, the cockpit, the infirmary she frequented. The cargo hold where she spent hours as a teenager practicing her fencing form, challenging whoever she could find to a bout, where she worked so hard to perfect this art. The shuttle.

* * *

Food, a bath, and eighteen hours of sleep brings more of Serra back. Aided by Umm Hafi and Sue Ling, Inara bathes and feeds Serra before tucking her into the crisp, cool, clean sheets of her bed in the Serra house.

It's Umm Hafi who discovers the needle marks in the bath. Sue Ling quickly assures Inara that they're new.

"Didn't take 'em long to figure out how to get to me," Serra says over a gigantic breakfast after she wakes. The color's returning to her cheeks, parts of life sparking in her eyes. She's trying painfully hard to bring her characteristic nonchalance back to the forefront, emphasizing the traces of Rim in her accent.

Inara doesn't ask who stuck her and with what. She's not sure she wants to know. Dr. George Patel, a family friend, has already been in to see her, has run tests on blood taken while Serra was asleep. She's clean. Undernourished, but miraculously clean.

She asks after her brother (on his way), but not her father. She seems to know, or at least guess, what Inara's solitary presence here must mean. She stays off the issue. Inara lets her for now.

"How's Ari?" Inara asks now that Serra is physically back up to snuff. She's refused all psychological help: of course she has, she's her father's daughter. They're walking in the park, sun warm on their faces. Serra only shudders slightly when they pass Feds. Less every time. So strong, her baby girl. Too, too strong.

"He was fine when I saw him." She stops, hand on her mother's arm. "You haven't… told him, have you?"

"No," Inara answers honestly. "The only one outside of the Serra family who knows is George."

"Good," Serra breathes, resuming their walk. "No one else can know. Please. Promise me, Mama."

At this moment, she could ask for the Throne of Londinium, shiny-hat and all, and Inara would deliver.

"If that's what you want, Mei-Mei."

Serra nods.

"Bubba shouldn't come," she continues, "I'm fine, and he has class."

"He misses you. And you know Abe… Won't believe you're okay until he sees for himself."

Serra smiles, softly but genuinely. The first real one Inara's seen in months. They walk on in silence for a while.

"Mama," she finally says, leaning against a boulder by the pond. "Where's Daddy?"

Inara smiles. "Wherever _Serenity_ is."

"You left him."

Statement. Fact.

"Yes."

"Did he… hurt you?"

An absurd question six months ago, but now, after what she's seen… Serra's probably sure that anything is possible.

"He didn't touch me," Inara assures her.

Which is not a no, but answers the question Serra really asked.

"Mama… I need to… touch the Black."

Inara knows it really is a necessity, that going land-crazy is very real possibility for Serra and probably made her prison stay that less bearable. Any progress made will be lost if she's not free soon.

"Soon, Mei-Mei, soon."

* * *

"Gorramnit, Wash! What the hell was that?"

"That, Captain, was me," is River's icy response as Mal stomps onto the bridge. "And also, an unexpected asteroid field I've now worked around."

"Any further complaints, Captain?" Wash asks from the copilot's seat, where he's observing River. "Or did you have a bottle that needs getting back to?"

"_Bi zui_."

Mal turns to leave, headed back for… what? What the _guay _needed doing again? Right. The books. Which are in the shuttle. He really doesn't want to take care of the books.

* * *

That night, Serra has a nightmare, waking up gasping for breath, with tears running down her cheeks. It's the first and only time she cries over this.

They share a bed. Serra shouldn't sleep alone; Inara can't.

Inara immediately gathers her sobbing little girl into her arms. Serra rests her head on Inara's shoulder and snuggles close, her hot tears soaking through her mother's nightgown. Inara's tears are silent and less violent than Serra's, but they drip from her face into her baby's messy curls.

Both fall back to sleep. Inara's sleep is restless, but Serra sleeps dreamlessly for the rest of the night in her mama's arms.

* * *

Another sleepless night, this one spent at the kitchen table, spinning an empty bottle of Kaylee's engine brew, the one he finished off an hour previous. The taste only serves to remind him of how it tasted on Inara's lips.

"Okay. I'm done," a voice rouses him from his morose and drunken remembering. The newcomer snatches the bottle off of the table. "You humped up your relationship? Great, amazing. That's on you. But you've still got a boat to run, Captain, and I refuse to let you take us down with you."

"Wash?" Mal asks, incredulous, as his senior pilot seats himself across the table.

"You saved me from Niska twenty-five years ago; I'm saving you from yourself. Sitting around here, drinking yourself into oblivion isn't going to get Inara or Serra back here. In fact, it makes them less likely to come back. And if you lose them forever…"

"I already have," Mal interrupts.

"If you lose them forever," Wash reiterates, ignoring Mal. "Then you lose Abram, too, because he will _always_ take their side. And then you're right back to where you were before _Serenity_, a no one, no where, with nothing."

"They're not coming back, Wash. I stepped over the line one too many times, and I've lost 'Nara for good. An' if she's not coming back, Serra's not comin' back. 'Less it's to kill me for hurting her mama."

"We're a family, Mal, all of us. We help each other out, pick each other up. And right now, I'm picking you up off your _pi gu_ and telling you to take care of this ship. That's your _job_, Captain. If you continue to make yourself miserable, you make this home miserable, and if you make this home miserable, you're getting off at the next world."

"Are you threatenin' mutiny, Wash?"

"Just a warning, Captain."

The pilot rises and leaves the galley.

* * *

Serra is herself in the morning, slow to wake, but as bright and charming and swaggering as she once was, what seems forever ago. It's forced, but only Inara can see that. She tells stories about Noor with Sue Ling, laughing and digging into her breakfast hungrily. Inara wants very much to believe it's real, but she knows Serra too well.

"There's a visitor," the butler, Pirro, says, coming into the dining room as Fahmy, Jiang Li, Sue Ling, Serra, and Inara take their breakfast.

"Business this early in the morning?" Jiang Li asks her husband, looking confused.

"No, ma'am," a familiar voice comes from the hallway, entering the dining room.

"Bubba!" Serra exclaims, sounding momentarily like she was a little girl again. She leaps from her chair and practically tackles him to the ground.

Abe laughs and hold her tight, obviously relieved to find her in one piece.

"Mei-Mei," he murmurs into her shoulder. He holds onto her for a few more moments, holding on for all he's worth. Then he pushes her away by the shoulders, looking her up and down.

"I'm fine," she admonishes, swatting his arm. "Come. Eat."

She pulls him to the table as Pirro brings out another chair and place setting. Abe waves the plates off. "Just a cup of tea, please, Pirro."

His mama rises to greet him, pulling him close.

"It's okay, Mama," he whispers in her ear, sensing her pain and anger and worry. "It'll be okay."

He kisses her cheek and releases him. Abe then greets his aunt, cousin, and uncle, sitting down as Umm Hafi pushes into dining room.

"Abram Reynolds. I certainly hope the kitchen was your next stop."

"Of course, Umm Hafi," Abe smiles, a beautiful grin much like his mother's. "You just beat me to it."

She hugs him close, happy to have him here. If anyone can help Serra heal, it's her beloved big brother.

"Are you certain I can't feed you, Abe? You've been traveling; you must be starving."

"No, really, Umm Hafi. I'm fine. Thank you."

"Eila let you come without her?" Serra smiles, referring to Abe's girlfriend, whom she met when she was visiting Abe at the beginning of this whole mess.

"She should have come. I would love to meet her," Inara teases.

"Oh no," Abe smiles. "She still needs a year to recover from Serra's visit before she meets the rest of you.

* * *

TBC 


	2. Part 2

Title: Barriers

Rating: PG-13

Characters: Serra, Inara, Mal. Brief appearances by Abe, the rest of the crew, and the Sihnon Serras.

Pairings: Canon pairings apply, but I've run back to heavy M/I

Summary: Another PC fic, 6 months before Tough, definitely a prequel. Context hard to understand without Tough, but still readable.

Disclaimer: Most of the characters (sans PCs and Ally) aren't mine, but the situation is.

For newbies: Brother, Shadow, Mei-Mei, Mischief, Pirate Children, Mistletoe, Hell-Raising, Barriers, Tough, Echo

Author's Note: Thanks guys! Here's the last chapter, though there will be more PC to come.

* * *

Part 2

Ally wakes early in the morning, searching out the kitchen for a cup of tea, preferably caffeinated. Instead, though, she finds the captain passed out, face down on the table, half-empty bottle of engine wine in front of him.

She lets out a soft sigh and kisses away all hope of a pleasant morning. First removing the bottle of wine from his firm grip, she then begins to shake his shoulder, at first gently and then violently.

"Get up, Captain."

A little groaning and snuffling comes from Mal as he fights her off, but he shows no sign of getting up. She kicks him a little.

"I'm going for the water."

His head pops up, but he lets out a terrible moan and slaps a hand over his eyes.

"Gorramnit, Teach," he groans, "It's too ruttin' bright."

"Well, that's what happens when you drink yourself into oblivion… You come back. Next time drink a little more so we'll be rid of you for good."

Mal grunts in return as Ally attempts to help him to his feet.

"You drooled on the table," she notes, disgust in her voice.

"Where we going?"

"Putting you in bed, Captain."

"Not the shuttle."

"Okay, Captain. We'll put you in your passenger dorm. Any other orders?"

Through his hangover haze, he shoots Ally an angry look. Supporting most of his weight on her shoulder, she helps him stumble down the stairs and into the empty passenger dorm he's been inhabiting for months. She slides the door open and dumps him on the bed, earning an indignant grunt. Ally takes off his shoes and covers him with a blanket, fetching a glass of water from the bathroom across the hall. With a sigh, she sets the glass on the night table and moves to turn off the light.

"Keep hydrated," she says, pausing with her hand at the light. "Please don't puke."

He nods.

"This is pathetic, you know."

"Not really lookin' for a lecture, little professor."

"You're not really in a position to avoid it. She's not going to come back…"

"I know," he interrupts, eyes closed against the bright lights. "Could you hit the lights?"

"No. And you didn't let me finish. She's not going to come back if you sit here wallowing. And if she does come back and finds you like this? She'll turn around and walk right back off. She needs you to be her husband, and Serra needs you to be her father. Not her captain, her father. Think on that while you sleep it off."

She snaps the light off and slides the door closed, loudly, behind her.

* * *

Abe takes her out to the park the day after his arrival, rents them time in a rowboat, and pushes away from the dock.

"Spill it," he demands. "All of it."

"Spill what?" Serra asks. "There's nothing to tell, Abe. You've heard all about how I ended up there."

"But not what it was like there. Tell me, Mei-Mei. Please."

She says nothing, eyes scanning the Core-bred people in their fancy clothes, carefree and leisurely on the water.

"You don't want to know, Bubba."

His eyes meet hers. "I do."

Serra swallows, eyes darting away from her brother's intense stare. She pulls her knees to her chest and rests her arms on them, lowering her chin to sit on her hands. She looks all of twelve and it breaks Abram's heart.

"What part do you want to hear first? The needles? The discrimination? The fights?"

"All of it."

Her eyes are big and wide and young momentarily, before the cold steel slams back into place.

"They used needles, Mei-Mei?"

"The doctors, yes. All new prisoners are taken to the infirmary for tests, to make sure we don't have any new diseases to add to the mix. It was there that the doctors and nurses discovered my… interesting reaction to sharp, pointy objects."

"Screaming, kicking, and hitting?" he grins a little, trying to keep her from slipping back to that place.

"Something like that," she smiles sadly, stretching herself back and letting the Sihnon sun soak into her skin.

"As physicians… Did they exploit that?"

"On occasion. Though it was mostly the neighboring inmates who noticed my…"

"Phobia," Abe adds.

She doesn't like to say it out loud, to admit a weakness.

"Right. There was a fight that first night."

"Did you start it?"

"No. But I was involved."

"Of course."

Her glare tells him this is not the time.

"I can't say that my fellow combatants came out as shiny and pretty as they'd been. They were a little…"

"Disgruntled?"

"To put it lightly, yes. Back to the infirmary for them, where they happened to swipe a few needles…"

"_Renci de Fozu_," Abe whispers, willing her to stop now.

"There were too many of them… Bubba, I fought them but…"

"That's enough," he says, voice cracking. He stops rowing, focusing all of his attention on Serra. "I get it."

He can see the horrors inflicted upon her in her eyes, in her blustering bearing.

"You asked," she whispers.

"I know," Abe says, reaching a hand out to rest on her knee. She sits up straight, resting her hand on top of his. "I'm sorry. You don't… you don't have to go on."

It's weak on his part, he knows. Talking about it will probably aid in her healing, to get it off of her chest. But he can't be her confidante in this. If she tells him anything else about what happened there, he won't, can't be responsible for his actions. After hearing only this, a bloodlust stronger than he's felt in a while is pooling in his gut.

"I love you, Mei-Mei," he says, pulling her across into a tight hug, "And you're the strongest person I know."

She rests her head in the crook of his neck, feeling truly safe for the first time in six months.

* * *

"Welcome back to the living, Captain," Zoe says as he climbs onto the bridge.

Mal nods, still feeling a little groggy from the previous night. "How're we doing?"

"On course, sir. Due to set down on Whitefall tomorrow, make the drop."

"Good thing Patience isn't around any more," Mal grins a little, meeting Zoe's sidelong glance.

"That's one perspective," Wash grumbles from the pilot seat.

Mal lets it slide.

"Well, I guess I better go check on the cargo, make sure everything's in order before we get there."

"Sounds like a great idea, sir."

Mal turns and leaves the cockpit.

"Does he know you did that three days ago?" Wash asks once he's out of earshot.

Zoe smiles a little and pats her husband's shoulder. "Won't hurt to do it again."

"I just hope this means things will be getting back to normal around here."

"As normal as they can be," Zoe sighs, referring to their missing crewmembers.

* * *

Abe returns to Ariel a few days after the boat affair, and his sister is already getting antsy. Land-crazy is right around the corner. That night, Inara makes up her mind. After breakfast the next morning, she pulls Serra aside and tells her to go down to the docks with Rafe, the Serras' driver, and book them passage for the next morning to Persephone. Serra beams brightly. As much as she is loathe to admit it, she is terribly homesick for _Serenity_, and no matter how angry she is at her father, she misses him desperately.

While Serra and Rafe are down at the docks, Inara makes a 'wave.

"Aunt 'Nara?" Kacey answers the 'wave, incredulous and grinning.

"Kacey," she smiles, forgetting how much she missed the young man. "Is the captain around?"

"No," Kacey says, voice hopeful. "But I can go get him."

"No," Inara says, a little too quickly. She recovers. "Please, don't. I'd rather he not know."

"Right," Kacey nods. "Yes, ma'am. What can I do for ya, Aunt 'Nara?"

"Could I speak with your mother?"

"Not a problem. Just one second."

He flips a few switches and calls for his mother, who quickly comes to answer the 'wave.

"Anything in particular I can do for you, Inara?" Zoe asks, eyes narrowing curiously at the sight of the captain's estranged wife.

"Come get us?" Inara asks, voice sounding a little desperate. "Serra really needs to be home right now."

Zoe thinks on it momentarily, then nods. "Where are ya?"

"Sihnon, right now. But we leave for Persephone in the morning."

"Then we'll be there to pick you up."

"Thank you, Zoe," Inara breathes, more relieved than she thought she would be.

* * *

"Alright. I'm confused. Job's supposed to be Whitefall to Beaumonde. Why's the Albatross tellin' me that we're headed to Persephone?"

"We've got passengers waitin' on us, sir," Zoe answers, continuing to clean her gun. "Won't be but a bit out of our way. We'll still make Beaumonde on time."

"Passengers? Why in gorramn hell are we changin' course for passengers? We don't really have anywhere to put 'em."

"Would if you'd get your lazy ass back to your room," Zoe says, evenly.

Mal shoots her a look that says he's currently not amused.

"Just trust me, sir."

* * *

"Zoe, your passengers were supposed to be here an hour ago," Mal complains, viewing his watch for the fourth time. "We've got a schedule to keep."

"Relax, sir. They'll be here," Zoe says, following Kacey up to the bridge, sharing a grin that the captain can't see from below in the cargo bay.

Mal grumbles and continues to pretend to be busy with the cargo.

"Daddy?"

Mal turns around, sure his mind is playing tricks on him.

But there she is, alive and healthy it seems. Older than he remembers, no longer a little girl. Pistol on her hip, hands in her belt loops. His Mei-Mei, bluster and swagger firmly in place, except… Her eyes are momentarily vulnerable and hopeful.

"Serra?"

She smiles a little and crosses quickly to him. He smiles and holds her tight, feeling her rest her cheek against his chest. They stay for a few moments, before Serra pulls back, setting her nonchalance back into place.

"Hi."

"Hello, Mei-Mei. How you been?"

Serra shrugs. "Okay, I guess. Permission to come back aboard, Captain?"

"Of course."

"Good," she grins. "'Cause I was comin' aboard no matter what you said."

"I figured. Gotta keep up some captainy pretences, though."

"Of course."

"So, passengers? Your Aunt Zoe was bein' a mite sneaky."

"And you're as dense as ever, I see," she teases back, "There's an 's' on that."

He wrinkles his brow at her as she gestures over her shoulder. He follows her thumb to the ramp, where his wife is standing uneasily.

"Don't be stupid," Serra says as Mal starts to move towards Inara.

Kaylee yells for the Mei-Mei excitedly from the catwalk above, and Serra leaves her father to go greet the rest of her family.

"You left," Mal says, testing the waters. He resists the urge to reach out and touch Inara, to prove she's real. Instead, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, feeling more like a twelve-year-old boy than the gray old man he is.

"Yes. It had to be done. If you…" Her chin is held high, but her voice falters, "If you think so little of me to use _that_ word, then I shouldn't be here."

"Inara…"

She meets his gaze, eyes a little wet, but steely.

"But you came back."

"Serra…" she stumbles again over her words.

"You found her," he notes, glancing over his shoulder to see Serra smiling and laughing with Kacey and Lolly. Inara follows his gaze and sees the same thing, though she also sees through Serra's façade,

"Fahmy found her," she corrects as his eyes swing back around to her. She looks so tired.

"So you went to Sihnon."

"Yes. It was just coincidence… Can we take this somewhere other than the ramp? It's been a rough travel week. That is… if I'm allowed aboard."

Mal swallows the lump in his throat, crosses his eyes back to his now vibrant crew. As he returns his eyes to Inara, he offers her his hand.

"Of course," he swallows again as she slips her small hand against his rough, old palm. "Of course. This is our home."

She squeezes his hand, and he pulls her close, wraps his arms around her, feels her bury her face in his chest.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, voice rough. "I'm so sorry, 'Nara…"

"I know," she says softly, tipping her face up to look at him. She smiles a little, and his heart clenches, a returning smile breaking out on his face. "Idiot."

"Well, yes, ma'am, I am that," he admits, his smile growing.

Inara's eyes return to seriousness momentarily. "It's going to take time…"

"I know," he assures her. "But we, at least, have that. Time."

He starts to smirk a little, in that way that makes him look so much younger. It infuriates and thrills her, as always. _Renci de Fozu_, she's missed him. Hands on his upper arms, she pushes herself up to kiss him.

"You know," Kacey calls from up on the catwalk, Serra in headlock that she only half tries to get out of. "I seem to remember a certain schedule, _Captain_."

"_Bi zui_," Mal calls up to them.

"Go neck in your own room!" Kaylee calls, smiling widely. "We've gotta close that ramp."

"Hey," Serra says, struggling out of the headlock. "I'm hungry. Who's makin' dinner?"

* * *

TBC 


End file.
